Chicks

It wasn't enough to have the Cub Scouts selling candy and beef sticks outside of the store. Very interesting twist on the traditional fund raiser, kids. I really liked the addition of faux meat. But besides those kids prying a dollar out of my hand for some peanut butter cups, inside the store were the chicks.

I hate chicks. Sure they all looked cute lounging around underneath the sun lamps. I knew better. I knew that they were going to grow up and get mean, vile, ugly, and nasty. The Cub Scouts outside had hope. Perhaps when they got older they would remember that strange looking guy who instead of brushing them off like so many others had that day, he stopped by the table and gave them a dollar. Perhaps they would think that maybe, just maybe, all those freaks out there aren't so bad and might even try a freaky lifestyle themselves. Or maybe they'll get the idea that even weirdos can get suckered out of their money and open up a Hot Topic. But at least they have a chance. Not those chicks inside. Worthless. Doomed. I hope to never see them again until they are dead.

Chicks are deceptive. Their young form masks what they will become. But I know better. Never will I drop so much as a dime on a chick. Perhaps ducklings or goslings, but never chicks.